


I Want to Hear It From You

by PrimarchOmegon



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Antrophiel is a gentle dom, Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Forced, Gentleness, Kidnapping, M/M, Master/Servant, Mild S&M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Sexual Bondage, OR IS IT, Original Character Death(s), Post heresy, So so much teasing, Teasing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence towards an expensive and entirely innocent space ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimarchOmegon/pseuds/PrimarchOmegon
Summary: After his blissful and much-needed parting with the former warband and his team, Malail takes 70-year break to follow his own secretive ways, like he always has. Which makes it even more suspicious when he suddenly finds himself heavily drugged, bound and dragged through the agonisingly narrow corridors of a a ship that belongs to a warband that is not so pleasant to deal with; into the throne room of a Slaaneshi Chaos Lord whom is in need of a sorcerer.In the end, Malail only cares about how much his arms and knees hurt at this point, though there are alternatives and other things to sit on, especially when you still possess the gift of being flesh...
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	I Want to Hear It From You

There were a number of things that Malail did not like to think about. 

Like how the newest artifact he had been pursuing had seemingly vanished from the universe as they knew it all together or how his arms felt like they were ready to fall off at this point. A strong contender entered the ring of undesired thoughts when he was roughly pushed forward through the near endless labyrinth of dimly-lit hallways and he faintly heard screams and rhythmic thuds from somewhere. And not only did they make his head pound with unnecessary stimuli, they also disoriented him even more than he already was thanks to this… _thing_ around his neck. Every now and then, he felt the numb sensation of yet another injection to keep his gifts in check and not cause spontaneous, unwanted acts of escapism. It was hard enough to stand with whatever they pumped into his system, but being pushed, shoved and pulled around certain corners made it even worse. So much so, that he eventually lost his balance and hit the metal floor face first, since his arms were still firmly bound behind his back.  
“And here I thought Sorcerers were supposed to be balanced in all regards!”

“What do you think, Vaelian, should we help him up?” Armoured feet firmly pressed his helmeted head and arms down, effectively pinning him to the floor and building up more pressure the longer their owners kept debating.  
“I don’t know, Parrys… He seems to like it down there.” Malail couldn’t even remember whom which voice belonged to, but they both disgusted him. The latter with their youthful and eccentric hedonism and the former simply because of what degeneracies it uttered most of the time.  
“Let him taste the floor a little longer then. The taste of ashes shouldn’t be a foreign concept to the likes of him.” After what felt like a small eternity, he was finally freed from the pressure that threatened to crush his most valuable body parts and he managed to gather enough air for a reply.  
“Don’t touch me, degenerates…!”, he huffed, slowly sliding back on the floor in order to somehow regain a sitting position without using his arms to push himself up. His efforts were rewarded with an impressed whistle upon finding back to his feet, albeit looking like a newborn horse taking its first steps.

“This one has endurance!”, one of his guards remarked with a sickeningly promising undertone.  
“ _I can’t wait to see how long that will last with Antrophiel._ ” Deep inside his clouded mind, Malail suddenly realised he had heard that name before. Antrophiel the Impure, Chaos Lord of a warband he had successfully avoided for centuries, given their chosen direction of worship and how savagely they descended upon the worlds of their choosing. Well, until now, it seemed. If anything, he never wanted to have anything to do with Slaanesh ever again after this.  
They took their time guiding him through the most narrow parts of the ship until he was finally awarded a short break in front of some doors while one of them went ahead and announced their presence. And upon vaguely registering the throne when he was forced in and refusing to be dragged, Malail could already guess which room he was in.

“My Lord, I am confident we found a more than capable sorcerer.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Vaelian. Thank you dearly nonetheless.” This voice was different. Contrary to the others, it almost sounded otherworldly smooth and soft, like a silk blanket being wrapped around his mind. Like its owner only had everyone’s best interests in mind.

“You may raise your head, Son of Magnus.” He did. It took a bit of convincing his body to move and not indulge in the delightful feeling of numbness that threatened to overtake it. And when he finally managed to focus on everything in front of him, Malail unconsciously swallowed. 

Antrophiel the Impure had undoubtedly been an Emperor’s Children before taking up the task of leading his warband. The iconography of the III. legion was still to be found all over his lavender armour. None of that flashy nightmare of a colour scheme some Slaanesh followers were so fond of, no, this was soothing, sedating even. It was strangely pleasant, as was the face that scrutinized every single bit of him with lavish, golden eyes. Even though his eyesight already began to blur once more, Malail could still make out the various jewels embedded into the Chaos Lord’s forehead to form some sort of diadem and how his white hair seemingly flowed around a pair of curled ram horns like gentle waves around a rock.

Perhaps it was the work of these damnable chemicals in his bloodstream, but even compared to a regular marine, Antrophiel seemed extraordinarily massive on his throne. As if someone had purposefully shaped him to attract as much attention as possible.

“I apologize for these… rather harsh security measures, but I have had my fair share of run ins with psykers in my time. I prefer my men to be safe and secure. As you may have heard, I am searching for a sorcerer, since the previous one has unfortunately perished.” This was not that bad, listening to this man was not that bad at all, if Malail was honest with himself. It was a pleasant voice and perhaps, if he hadn’t been drugged into oblivion, he would have appreciated speaking with the Chaos Lord more privately as well. Or was that only because he was being drugged into oblivion at this very moment…?

“ It was rather dramatic, if you’re interested to know.” Someone snickered. He didn’t exactly know where it had come from, however, his vision awarded him with a peek of someone lurking near the throne. Someone in an awfully familiar armour, with an awfully familiar haircut and an even more awful grin.  
_Oh no._

Why was he here, of all people? Didn’t he usually prefer to work alone, hadn’t he always proclaimed his independence of warbands and that he only joined them out of mere boredom? Malail forced his mind into the iron hinges of discipline once more to glare at the second Emperor’s Children that still smiled at him, making a motion to just go along with whatever was happening.  
“Do you have anything to add, Silas?”, Antrophiel asked, thankfully turning his head enough as to not catch Malail’s reaction towards being confronted with that name once more, after all these years. Truth be told, he could have done without hearing that smug voice ever again. It was clear that Silas was deeply amused about what was going on and only halfway managed to not let it show in his tone.

“Not at all, my Lord! I just think I should give him a proper welcome. Wouldn’t you like a proper welcome, _Sorcerer_?” Somehow, he could already tell what this would be, judging from how Silas had preyed on him before.

“You’ve already done enough by pointing me into the right direction, but your effort is dearly noted.” So it was his fault. All this chasing, all this pulling and shoving and pushing and kneeling and all of that because Silas had told them exactly where to find him! Even after abandoning their little gathering of misfits as fast as possible in order to escape the constant toll on his patience and nerves, even after finally losing him, Silas still refused to let him have his peace! That son of a-

“Are there any more questions before I mark you and leave to to your first task, Sorcerer?”  
“Perhaps you could release my arms, while there’s still blood to be pumped through them…?”, Malail asked, grossly aware of how he slurred certain words. And yet, Antrophiel didn’t seem to mind, rather than suddenly noticing something. And a second later, he wished he had never said anything.

“I would have figured your blood has long dried by now, Son of Magnus. That is a surprise, to be sure… But a pleasant one.” Upon making a slight gesture, Malail lost his helmet to quick hands that grabbed and dragged him forward, towards the throne. Towards what could easily be his doom. Towards armoured fingers that carefully cupped his face.

“What an interesting turn of events. Indeed a very rare sight, a Thousand Son that still possesses the gift of flesh.”, Antrophiel mused, turning Malail’s head in his hands like he was marvelling at a jewel. It was absurd how warm his touch was, even through the ceramite that had undoubtedly crushed many bones before. And yet here they were, one trying to kneel on the ridiculously pompous steps to the throne to the best of his abilities, the other gently exploring his face as if that was enough to somehow damage it.

“Consider yourself part of our little warband, my dear friend. You’re going to be one of my most prized possessions, I can assure you that.”

“Perhaps I should break him in for you, my Lord.”, Silas immediately added, taking a step forward but retreating just as fast. Apparently, he still realised when overstepping boundaries was not a wise choice.  
“I’ll mark him for you.”  
“I will be seeing to that personally, thank you dearly. Now go and tell the Captain we’ll be staying on this planet a bit longer. I feel like it could benefit from a fortress, point the slaves to work.” It was obvious that that was not what the Emperor’s Children had wanted to hear, judging from the face he made. Malail could only see it from the edge of his vision, however, it was more than satisfactory to see his smug smile die within an instant.

“... At once, my Lord.”, he replied with a bow that was so over the top that it was already mocking, only to leave right afterwards and without any more gestures of respect. 

“Dear Vaelian and Parrys will assist you, just in case of problems.” Antrophiel, still leaning forward and basically holding Malail hostage, waited patiently for the heavy doors to shut once more before addressing him again. As if he wanted absolute privacy for his next words. Though as it turned out, it wasn’t quite that.  
“I know he waits at the door. Likes to listen for everything I say, dear Silas… Well, why not indulge him?”, he whispered softly before taking a bit of distance again and letting go of him.

“You’re a rarity that cannot be estimated in value, sorcerer. One of your legion that is still flesh is a prestigious thing and I am honored to have been chosen to own such a thing from now on. I imagine you were not really aware of this, no? You will have trouble getting used to your dear body, won’t you? First of all, I want you to be comfortable. _Sit._ ” Malail needed a moment and some added assurance that he understood before swallowing notably.  
_His lap. He was expected to sit on Antrophiel’s lap._

Shakily, the Thousand Son finally managed to get up, although it felt like his legs would give in at any moment, and obliged. And as if his pride wasn’t hurt enough, he was immediately grabbed and pulled backwards to meet the other’s chest with his back.  
“I have a habit of marking every member of my dear warband, we consider each other family, you see. However, you are free to decide where you’d like it. Perhaps this would be a good spot, yes?” Armoured fingertips gently slipped into the tight space between his skin and undersuit, lightly pushing against his neck. Though apparently, that was not good enough, since they soon became bored with what they were doing and chose to grab as much as the collar would let them. Unconsciously, Malail leaned his head onto them, trying to somehow deal with how uncomfortable this felt. Too intimate, yet Antrophiel’s voice made him rethink a lot of things in a very short time and overburdened his already clouded mind. And before he knew it, his legs had been spread by a knee that had slid in between them, pushing one to lay on top of one of the armrests.

  
“I know it’s hard with this collar on, but please stay with me for this dear matter, as it is quite important to me. Seeing as you apparently don’t like my initial proposition, what about here then?” This time, he noticeably jolted when the fingers slid into the soft spot of his leg armour and pushed against the tendons and muscles of his inner thigh where it connected to his hip.  
“Ah, it’s all that kneeling, isn’t it? Makes the legs really sensitive, like they’ve been asleep for a whole while.” Malail didn’t manage to even gather himself for some sort of reply before he was forced to lean back even more and armour audibly rubbed against armour when he involuntary flinched again upon being touched once more.  
“I take it this is a good spot, yes? Admirable, your taste for aesthetic things is well-developed, dear sorcerer. Now onto your other duties and privileges...” It took Malail a moment to realise that the fingers at the side of his neck had moved up to gently caress his face. Every now and then, one or two slid across his lips at seemingly random times, though they did push a little more each time. As if they were testing how far they could go, how far they needed to go in order to elicit a response of any kind.

“I’m going to treat you like the pride and joy of my dear collection, sorcerer. See how gentle I am with you? I don’t plan on changing that anytime soon, believe me. There is only one thing I would like in exchange for that…” Antrophiel’s breath was strangely agitating to feel next to his ear and he couldn’t help but put up a feeble resistance towards having his chestplate undone. It was all he was able to do with this damnable collar and such an enticing voice telling him all these things he didn’t want to know, but ultimately thought about.  
Antrophiel had been nothing but gentle with him so far, that was no lie. However, Malail had more and more trouble to not ask for the opposite all of a sudden.  
“You will need to ask me first, sorcerer.” There was no way of telling when his armour had come off, however, the mere sensation of Antrophiel opening his undersuit to carefully slide his hands under it was enough to make him gasp. Warm, such incredibly warm hands against his body that was already caked in cold sweat. Weirdly enough, no comment about the alarming number of eyes on his torso was made. Then again, mutations like that were most definitely tame compared to what else the warp had to offer.

“I want to hear it from you. Before I can let you experience what it’s like to serve under me and the perks of being a part of my dear collection, before I can do any of that, I will need to hear that from you.”

“...Please...”

“Oh, that sounded a little forced now, didn’t it? You’re too beautiful to be forced into something, sorcerer, let me hear you moan it for me.” He licked his lips although his throat was dry and a part of Malail that was still conscious acknowledged this as the moment he had lost all of his pride with a single word. Not only had he allowed such a degenerate to do whatever he wanted with him, Malail had to admit that it wouldn’t have mattered. In fact, he would have let the other do whatever he wanted with him to begin with. And in a way, he found satisfaction in the thought of Silas having to listen to every single one of these sentences, promises and noises.

“Please…!”, he finally obliged, immediately biting his lip at how loud and obscene that had sounded coming out of his mouth. Not what he was used to. Not what his voice should have been like.  
“That wasn’t that difficult, I see. I’m planning to take my time with you, how could I not? Look at you, sorcerer, who would be hasty with someone like you, who would be rough with someone like you… That is not what you deserve.”  
“Am I deserving of having my arms untied?”, Malail managed to get out between having his undersuit pulled down to his waist and being readjusted on the other’s lap.  
“Not yet, you need to learn to be patient.”, the Chaos Lord chuckled, although, he did position the Thousand Son so that his arms wouldn’t be at risk of being crushed in between them. And Malail shuddered to imagine how they would have to move against each other in order for that to happen.

“However, you are deserving of something.” By now, he automatically turned his head into the desired direction whenever a hand lightly urged him to, nevertheless, being face to face with Antrophiel was even more stunning than it had been before. The golden eyes that found his promised him so much without the need to say anything and he wanted to believe them with how much their owner seemed to want him.

“Something I don’t usually give out.” It was startling how soft Antrophiel’s lips were against his own and how the Slaaneshi pushed forward ever so gently, leaving him enough room to feel appreciated, yet not enough to escape or pull back. Cautious, as if he was in need of being treated like a raw egg. As if he was worth putting up with being careful.  
“How does that make you feel?” Malail didn’t want to answer that. Admission was yet another step towards the already threatening abyss he seemed to head for, however, it was not like he had a choice. The way Antrophiel paused to tease him with the mere ghost of a touch every now and then while waiting for his answer was even worse for his overly sensitive body than just getting it over with. 

“Good...” Though such a reluctant answer did not stop these damnably warm hands from ever so lightly brushing a thumb against his hip. Malail could feel it sliding down in between his legs more and more every time, maddeningly out of reach and yet close enough to make him shiver with anticipation of something that didn’t come.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up, otherwise our dear listener will be disappointed. Go ahead, you did so well before.”  
“Good, it’s good, _please_ untie my arms…!”, he moaned, although it made him feel dirty. As if he had abandoned all his self-respect with a single sentence. At this point, the only thing he could do was play along and hopefully not hate himself all too much afterwards. What didn’t help was how good the other was at what he did, that he knew exactly where to touch him at what time in order to elicit a gasp or a frustrated groan. It was so entirely different from what Silas had always threatened him with back then, much more refined and curious. Admiring, even.

“What do we say to our superior, sorcerer?”

“ _My Lord...!_ ” Again, Malail wasn’t given the luxury to add something to that before he was urged into another kiss, though this time he couldn’t help but sigh louder than he had wanted when Antrophiel forced his abnormally long tongue into his mouth.  
“Such a good boy, so easy to please. Keep this up and I might have you work me a little longer before I’ll let you choke on my-” It took Malail a few seconds before realising that what had coated him in these sudden, wet splatters was the blood gushing out of Antrophiel’s severed throat while he bled out. Slowly, almost calmly, the grasp on his head and thigh ceased and made him slide off of the other’s lap and onto the floor. Malail hadn’t heard it coming, he hadn’t even seen a glare or a muzzle flash somewhere, yet a bullet had ripped open the Chaos Lord’s throat without anyone to claim that kill. Or so he had thought, initially.  
“Well, Sorcerer, I think that was enough of that!”, Silas’ voice greeted him from somewhere behind him. At this point, his body wasn’t inclined to move any longer, which was why Malail had arranged himself with his position on the floor.

“And for my next trick, I will stuff you into a nice, relaxing promethium bath to get the feeling of his disgusting hands off of you.”

“You… shot him.”, the Thousand Son managed to get out, words muffled by how he was pressed into the ground while Silas finally freed his arms from behind his back.  
“I did! From inside one of the vents, if you were wondering. He should get used to molesting people in front of his guards if he doesn’t want such things to happen.” Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of anticipation, the collar finally clicked open and got pulled from his neck, most likely leaving more than a few bruises behind. However, it also gradually enabled him to force his mind back into some sort of control, at least enough to make him get up.

“I assume you have a plan.”  
“Do I really look like a guy with a plan? Granted, usually I don’t, but Vrek is waiting outside to fly us off this godforsaken rock. What did you even look for down here!”  
“Soul stones. Eldar soul stones.”, Malail merely said, scavenging his chestplate from where it had landed and suppressed a cough in favour of getting his body used to the sensation of running again. As if he had been in stasis for ten thousand years, good gods…

“Oh. Well, that explains why he was here too. Now, Sorcerer, I know you don’t like the idea of moving right now, but I’m afraid we’ll have to be quick.”  
“That is not a problem.” He didn’t even have to put much effort into raising his hand in order to make one of the inner walls of the throne room wheeze and bend and finally rip open under his pure will alone. After all, that was the least he could do to properly pay Antrophiel and his warband back for such an extraordinarily good time.  
“I’ll make a way out.”  
“Someone is angry, isn’t he?”  
“I am.”, the Thousand Son replied calmly, all while his mind forced metal to yield and pipes to burst in order to tear itself through the ship’s bowels. He still very much remembered whose fault this had been, whom had sold him out. This time, Malail would not let him off the hook that easily.

“And you have no idea how much it helps to think of something you hate.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this story, then this individual would be very thankful for Kudos and comments, delicious reader!


End file.
